


Grass Strained Jerseys and Lost Cleats

by grizzly_bear_bane



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Captain!Arthur, Coach!Eames, Dubious Consent, Football | Soccer, Gratuitous Smut, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Rough Sex, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 14:30:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2113431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grizzly_bear_bane/pseuds/grizzly_bear_bane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the soccer field bleachers, Coach Eames learns that Arthur, his team captain, has a little dick and a very big mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grass Strained Jerseys and Lost Cleats

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ FIRST:
> 
> The sex in this fic got labeled as dubious consent/rape by a reader. That's not my intention here at all, but out of respect for that person's feelings, and anyone else who may feel the same, here's the warning.

++

+

 

Arthur downed half of his water bottle, still out of breath as the rest of the team made their way back inside to the college’s locker room to shower after their practice.

He poured the rest of the water over his head, cooling off as he neared the coach on the edge of the field. He braced for another argument.

Eames was already glaring at him. He tossed his clipboard down and sighed. “How many games do you want to lose before you fucking listen to me? If you weren’t captain of this team I’d kick you off it so fucking fast, Arthur!”

Arthur rolled his eyes, following Eames towards the doors. “Well you can’t, because I’m still the best pair of legs you got on this team, and we both know it.” He walked faster, catching up to him just inside the building. “You wanna to win sometime? Blame the team,” he hissed. “They don’t know how to work with  _me_ , that’s the problem!”

He tried to storm off, but Eames caught his arm in a grip that surprised Arthur. He’d never noticed how big Eames’ hands were before, or how strong he was. He swallowed.

Eames let him go to point to at the locker room. “Go get your bag.”

"Why?"

"Do it. Oi, Nick," he yelled down the hall to another boy and threw him his keys. "Lock up for me."

Arthur couldn’t believe what the coach had planned for him once they both returned outside. He carried his bag over a sore shoulder. “What now?”

Eames took it from him and led him back to the field. “Your team worked hard today, but you wouldn’t know that with your head stuck so far up your ass, so I want you to run laps—”

"Forget it, coach. No way!"

"—or I get one of them to take your place as captain once and for all. What will it be?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Fine. How many?”

“Til the last one of them goes home. Chop, chop.”

+

Arthur’s chest heaved, his legs weak by the time Eames finally called him back to the bleachers at sunset. 

Eames stood in the grass beside the railing. “Still full of yourself, or have you had enough?”

Arthur took off his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. “Can I go now?” He caught Eames staring at his flat stomach as he tossed his shirt down near his bag. “I’d love to let you ogle me some more, but I kinda need a shower.” 

Eames huffed. “You know what, Arthur?” 

Arthur grunted when he hit the grass under the bleachers, shoved to the ground with his coach on top of him. 

"I know what your problem is," Eames teased, keeping him pinned down with a hand at the back of Arthur’s neck.

"Coach? Oh, fuck! What are you…” Arthur gasped and clutched at the grass as he felt Eames’ hand snake under him, into his shorts. His hips bucked reflexively.

Eames chuckled. "See?" He massaged Arthur’s soft cock, bringing it to life as he whispered close to Arthur’s ear, "I knew it. You boys with such cute,  _little_  pricks are always so fucking cocky.”

Arthur groaned, his struggle quickly turning more and more unhurried when he felt his coach’s erection through his thin shorts. It was hot, but he'd be damned to admit it. “Fuck you!”

"Oh, and  _mouthy_ , but I’ll give you something to use that mouth for instead.” 

Arthur panted as Eames turned him on his back and straddled his chest. The coach’s thighs were big, heavy, reminding Arthur of the Eames he’d crushed so hard on as a kid, when Eames had still played soccer professionally. 

He grabbed hold of those thick legs. He couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from his lips when Eames tugged down his track pants and let his cock and balls spill out of his boxer briefs.

"Open up," Eames ordered, holding Arthur’s jaw. His thumb slipped past Arthur’s parted lips. "Good boy. You’re finally listening."

Arthur moaned past Eames’ cock, gagging as it touched the back of his mouth. He’d never done this before, had never even dreamed of it, not if he couldn’t have his coach, and yet here he was, trying and failing miserably to swallow Eames down the way he’d seen in porn mags. 

Eames pulled his cock free to give Arthur a chance to breathe. He ran his fingers through Arthur’s wet hair, watching Arthur lose himself, his neck straining in his attempt to get Eames’ length back in his mouth.

Arthur caught himself. Ashamed, he turned his face away, angry, his ears red. He tried to buck Eames off, but all the coach did catch his jaw again and fill his mouth.

Eames turned slightly to reach behind him. His hand dipped under Arthur’s shorts. 

"Oh, that’s perfect, darling," he moaned, rubbing Arthur’s balls and tugging on his cock. “You’re even small when you’re rock hard. No wonder you’re such a bloody spitfire. Poor boy.” He stroked him harder, letting his head fall back as Arthur moaned around his cock. 

Arthur dug his nails into Eames’ thighs and managed to wiggle free, losing a cleat in the process. Eames had him on his stomach again before Arthur could get far. 

He moaned in frustration, his sock-covered legs trapped under Eames’. "This doesn’t change anything, you know," Arthur grunted, rocking his ass back against Eames’ cock. "I’m not your whipping boy! Your team fucking sucks!"

"Still running your mouth, huh?" Eames panted, tugging Arthur’s shorts down and off of one leg. "Oh, but this ass certainly makes up for it." He pulled hard on the elastic waistband of Arthur’s jackstrap only to let it smack Arthur’s pale skin when he let it go.

Arthur yelped. It stung. Eames did it again, over and over, leaving red marks along Arthur’s lower back and the top of his ass. 

"What would your team mates think if they could hear their captain squeal in the grass like the little brat you are?"

It was humiliating enough without that thought in his mind, but it was feeling Eames’ cock leak precome over his ass that had Arthur’s ears, his neck, his whole face beet red in blush.

He dared himself to look over his shoulder at Eames. Big mistake, big thick, long mistake held in Eames’ fist, his cock smacking Arthur's ass and spreading more precome on his skin.

He moaned, watching Eames take off his shirt and rock his hips. He could feel Eames’ cock head slip between his cheeks and press against his hole. Eames stroked himself, squeezing out more little ropes and beads that shined in the sunlight filtering through the bleachers.

"Eames..." Arthur gave up his attempt to speak. He buried his face in the grass, unable to bear it anymore. He didn’t know what he wanted, didn’t know what to ask for. All he knew was that he was close. So fucking close and he hated not having control.

His resolve only ebbed more as Eames pressed his thumb to Arthur’s hole, his grip on Arthur’s cheek, rough and bruising. Arthur jerked away when Eames began to work his finger in, but he was trapped by the other hand Eames tangled in his jockstrap’s waistband. 

Eames got him on his hands and knees and kept his hold tight on the elastic band as he spit and leaked more precome over his fingers.

"Coach, please… I can’t." Arthur squirmed, trying to pull away one moment and pushing back the next, his mouth open in silent gasps as he was stretched open. "It hurts."

"Not if you work with me. Relax, darling. See? It’s that much easier if you just believe in a little team work."

"Fuck you. Oh my god!" Arthur collapsed forward, his brain shorting out when Eames’ fingers pressed against something electric inside him. He tried to rock his hips to get more of that spark, but the pain of three fingers was almost too much for the pleasure to mask. Only, as with the second finger, the more Eames wet his hole and stretched him, the less it ached. Arthur found himself rocking back for more of Eames’ touch once again.

"Sit still, Arthur." Eames withdrew his fingers and rummaged in his pocket. "Listen to me," he said soft but firm. He tore the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolled the lubed rubber down his cock. "Relax, darling.  _Fuck_ , that’s it." His groan rumbled through his chest. "Take all of it. _Good_ captain. Very good boy.” 

Tears wet Arthur eyes as Eames’ cock pushed deeper and deeper. “I can’t. Eames, it hurts again.” 

Eames soothed him, rubbing his hand through Arthur's hair and down his back.

His hold on the elastic band never loosened. “That’s my little virgin darling. Breathe through it. God, your little quim is _tight_. If only you were good to me out on that field. I’d be so happy. So fucking proud of my captain. You ready for more of me?” 

Arthur dug his fingers into the soft soil and whimpered as Eames used the strap to pull his hips back, flush against his own. Through the burning stretch, he could feel Eames so deep and full. "Y-Yes."

 _Stuffed_ , just like Eames had said.

"Oh no, darling," the coach murmured, pulling Arthur’s hips back harder, his other hand palming his cock through the pouch. "Your little prick’s gone soft on me. We can’t have that, can we, darling?"

Arthur whimpered in relief. He propped himself up on his hands and spread his legs as wide as he could under Eames, ready for Eames to jerk him off.

Only Eames didn’t reach into the front of his jackstrap again. His hand trailed higher, to Arthur’s chest. He pinched and rolled each nipple, switching back and forth as he thrust harder, his balls swinging against Arthur’s perineum until Arthur at long last begged.  **  
**

"Please, touch me, Eames. Fuck, coach. I need to come.” 

"But sweetheart," Eames said sweetly, "we’ve just started. I want to have to carry you back to your dorm over my shoulder by the time I'm done breaking you down. I want your knees bruised and you wincing from now until our game next week."

"Oh god." Arthur bowed his head and took Eames’ sex, trying his hardest not to come. He groaned, unable to see Eames’ teasing smile. For all Arthur knew about sex, Eames’ words could be completely true. “But...I won’t…be able to…play then.”

"I’ll bench you," Eames continued to tease. "I should have done that before, but I like this way better. Don’t you?" 

Arthur did. His need for release was nearly painful as Eames continued to rock his hips in a strong, steady pace. His arms shook. His knees were beyond sore, even in the soft grass. “Okay! I… I promise, coach… I’ll be bett-better, for you… for everyone. Just…”

Eames hushed him, letting go of the stretched band. He kissed the back of Arthur’s neck and shoulders as he pulled out. 

He laid Arthur down on his back and lifted his legs over his shoulders, bending Arthur in half.

Eames caressed his lean legs, tickled the back of his knees, his inner thighs. He caught one of Arthur’s socks between his teeth.

Arthur pulled up clumps of grass, watching the head of Eames’ cock tease his softened hole in light, short strokes that barely breached him until Eames’ harder thrusts returned, his force pushing gasps and moans from Arthur’s slack mouth. 

Eames played with Arthur's cock, covering it under his hand and massaging his balls as he aimed for that spot inside him. He got Arthur hard between his fingers again. Arthur blushed furiously at the smirk on Eames’ face. He knew there were more taunts on the tip of Eames’ tongue even if Eames didn’t say a word this time.

The coach planted his hands on Arthur’s narrow hips, lacing his fingers in the waistband to keep Arthur from sliding.

Eames whispered, panting down at Arthur, “God, I want to come in you so fucking bad, Arthur.”

Arthur moaned high in his throat, his eyes squeezed shut. "Let me win…the next game and you…can come…in…" Trying to articulate the thought and voice it, just  _thinking_  about it had Arthur coming into his hasty grip, spurting over his chest and stomach. His muscles tightened around Eames in waves as his heart beat out of his chest. “Eames!” He grabbed for him, needing to hold on to him as if he would melt into the ground if he let go of Eames’ arms.

The waistband broke in Eames’ fists, but he stayed planted, his hips still as he watched Arthur writhe. 

Arthur winced as Eames pulled out. He felt hollow inside, stretched and achingly empty where Eames had been.

With quick hands, Eames took off the condom and jerked himself off over Arthur’s stomach, mingling Arthur’s own clearer come with his thicker, white ropes.

They fought to catch their breaths. Arthur, more so, exhausted from practice, running, and this whole new exercise. He felt like an old rag doll, spread out and worn down in the tall grass. 

Eames kept his weight up off of Arthur, his hands splayed on either side of Arthur’s shoulders. "What floor do you live on?"

It took Arthur a while to muster an answer. “Fourth.”

"Is there an elevator?"

Arthur shook his head. “Ow.”

Eames redressed him and peeled him off the ground, grunted from his own exhaustion. Supporting Arthur with a hand around his waist, Eames took a moment to sweep grass out of Arthur’s hair. “I’m not carrying you up four flights of stairs, boy.”

"Blame those laps you made me run." He grimaced as his shirt stuck to his stomach. "Am I going home with you instead, then, or am I getting left out here?"

"You’re sleeping in my bed tonight. But give me attitude _one more time_ and I might drop you off right back here."

Arthur chose not to risk it, so he said nothing. 

Until they reached the parking lot.

"So much for carrying me, old man."

“ _Arthur_ , I swear to god! I’ll make you sleep on the field tonight, you little shit!”

++

+

 

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> grizzly-bear-bane.tumblr.com/


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